#Saffron extract

[fpaultrasonic]

بهترین روش استخراج عصارۀ گیاهان، استفاده از التراسونیک هموژنایزر است. با استفاده از این روش می توان در دمای صفر (مخلوص آب و یخ)، در فشار اتاق و بدون استفاده از حلال و تنها با استفاده از آب، عصارۀ گیاهان را استخراج کرد. این روش چندین برابر روش سنتی مواد موثره گیاهان را استخراج می نماید. در مورد زعفران، سافرانال، کروسین و پیکوکروسین استخراج شده در این روش، چندین برابر روش استاندارد عصاره گیری است و باعث می شود بتوانید عصارۀ بسیار غنی با عطر، طعم و رنگ بیشتر داشته باشید و مقدار مصرف زعفران را کاهش می دهد. برای اطلاعات بیشتر می توانید به لینک ارائه شده مراجعه نمایید.

[jolybeautyofficial]

Unlock Radiant Skin with Joly Beauty's Saffron Serum and Saffron Cream

In the pursuit of glowing, youthful skin, the beauty world often turns to natural ingredients that have stood the test of time. Saffron, known as "red gold," has been treasured for centuries for its powerful skincare benefits. Joly Beauty harnesses the luxurious properties of this ancient spice in their Saffron Serum and Saffron Cream, offering a transformative skincare experience. Here, we delve into how these products can elevate your beauty routine and deliver remarkable results.

The Magic of Saffron in Skincare

Saffron, derived from the Crocus sativus flower, is rich in antioxidants, vitamins, and minerals. Its potent properties help to brighten the complexion, reduce dark spots, and improve overall skin texture. With its anti-inflammatory and antibacterial qualities, saffron is also excellent for soothing irritated skin and preventing acne.

Joly Beauty's Saffron Serum: A Concentrated Elixir

Brightening and Even Skin Tone: Joly Beauty's Saffron Serum is designed to penetrate deeply into the skin, delivering the concentrated benefits of saffron directly to the cellular level. Regular use of this serum helps to lighten pigmentation, resulting in a more even and radiant skin tone.

Antioxidant Protection: The serum is packed with antioxidants that combat free radicals, which are known to accelerate the aging process. By neutralizing these harmful molecules, Joly Beauty's Saffron Serum helps to prevent premature aging, keeping your skin looking youthful and vibrant.

Hydration and Nourishment: Besides saffron, this serum is enriched with hydrating ingredients that lock in moisture and keep the skin plump and soft. Its lightweight formula absorbs quickly, providing essential nutrients without leaving a greasy residue.

Joly Beauty's Saffron Cream: Luxurious Moisturization

Deep Moisturization: Joly Beauty's Saffron Cream offers rich, luxurious hydration. The creamy texture melts into the skin, delivering intense moisture that keeps your skin soft and supple throughout the day.

Skin Rejuvenation: Infused with the goodness of saffron, this cream helps to rejuvenate the skin, promoting cell turnover and reducing the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles. The result is a smoother, more youthful complexion.

Radiant Glow: The saffron cream works to enhance your natural glow by brightening dull skin. Its regular use can help diminish dark spots and give your skin a luminous, healthy look.

Combining the Power of Saffron Serum and Saffron Cream

To maximize the benefits of saffron in your skincare routine, use Joly Beauty's Saffron Serum and Saffron Cream together. Start with the serum, applying a few drops to clean, dry skin. Gently massage it in, allowing the serum to fully absorb. Follow up with the saffron cream to lock in the serum's benefits and provide additional hydration.

Why Choose Joly Beauty?

Quality Ingredients: Joly Beauty is committed to using high-quality, natural ingredients. Their saffron is sourced from the finest fields, ensuring that you receive the most potent and effective skincare products.

Sustainable Practices: Joly Beauty is dedicated to sustainability. Their products are cruelty-free and made with eco-friendly practices, so you can feel good about your skincare choices.

Proven Results: Countless users have experienced the transformative effects of Joly Beauty's saffron-infused products. From reducing pigmentation to achieving a radiant glow, the results speak for themselves.

Conclusion

Incorporating Joly Beauty's Saffron Serum and Saffron Cream into your skincare regimen can be a game-changer. The powerful combination of these two products harnesses the ancient benefits of saffron, offering modern solutions for brightening, anti-aging, and hydration. Experience the luxury of radiant, youthful skin with Joly Beauty's saffron skincare line. Your skin deserves the best, and with Joly Beauty, the best is exactly what you get.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

woke up and someone spilled vanilla extract all over my dash, so as punishment you strange little beasties are getting all the VANILLA FACTS i know:

vanilla is the 2nd most expensive spice in the world (2nd to saffron)

which is why more than 99% of what we call "vanilla extract" is actually vanillin (vanilla's dominant flavor compound) and is not extracted from real vanilla.

luckily, even professionals struggle to tell the difference when it comes to things like baked goods. but there is a distinct difference in non-heat treated products like vanilla ice cream. real vanilla has a more complex, individualized flavor profile.

why is vanilla so expensive? because it is a ridiculously delicate & demanding crop. complete primadonna.

vanilla beans come from vanilla orchids. these crazy flowers bloom for A SINGLE DAY and have to be HAND-POLLINATED in a process that is exhausting, delicate, and requires specialist knowledge passed down over generations.

then, if you're lucky, you get vanilla beans.

which then require months of further specialized treatment.

the entire process takes about a year and can go wrong at any stage

vanilla has been cultivated for over 800 years (possibly much longer). the first known cultivators are the Totonac, an indigenous people of Mexico.

the Aztecs used it as a sweetener to balance out the bitter taste of cocoa. it was popular in a drink called xocolatl--the precursor to modern hot chocolate!

it is only pollinated by a very specific orchid bee!!!

which is why no fruit could be grown outside of Mexico until the 1800s

Edmond Albius, born into slavery, invented the pollination method we still use today--launching a global industry when he was just 12 years old.

today, the majority of the world's vanilla is grown in Madagascar

if you want real vanilla, read the labels carefully--it's harder to find than you think!

in conclusion, those tiny black specks you see in fancy vanilla ice cream? those are vanilla bean seeds! itty bitty orchid seeds!!! they are delicious and also a PRISSY BITCH!

(src)

[morethansalad]

Rasmali Tres Leches Cake (Vegan)

[necrogfie]

i'm writing something and i am inexplicite make the main couple be in a somewhat necro and . like 'underage' ( + it's interspecies ) relationship and i think it's very fun but i also have to keep it down a bit so i'm tip toeing around it

(like reference to one of them 'technically being dead' and his partner is like at some point jokingly saying 'waaait am i ... a necrophile because you are like are not really a living person ?' but his is like 'no silly you arent' bcuz yk hes not gonna say 'yes babe ur a necro :3' and like there is multiples off hands comments abt how the not dead one is like seen as a minor for the specie of the technically dead boy but like he reassure his partner by being like 'noo but like ! you are an adult for a human right ? thats what matter !' but he does get shit for dating him bcuz otherwise that couldn't be funny)

(im alrrady so autistic over them when ... only one of the two is fleshed out ,, the other is like a vague concept but i've written so many scenes already abt them when in the story in itself they still haven't met lol but i am waiting to be able to put the scenes i've already written in it)

[pratsmusings]

Best face oils in India in 2022

Best face oils in India in 2022

With the winter setting in, my skin needs that extra nourishment, and this season is when I make that switch to face oils. Face oils are extremely hydrating by nature and provide a long-lasting nourishment to your skin. Since face oils are a blend of oils, you will not really need anything else to layer on your skin. The good news is that there are some best face oils in India that you must give…

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Reference: Food History

B.C.

10,000 - almonds, cherries, bread, flour, soup

8,000 - wheat ⚜ 7,000 - wine, beer, pistachios, pig, goat, sheep, lard

6,500 - cattle domestication, apples ⚜ 6,000 - tortilla, dates, maize

5,000 - honey, ginger, quinoa, avocados, potatoes, milk, yogurt

4,000 - focaccia, watermelons, grapes, pomegranates

3,200 - chicken domestication ⚜ 3,000 - butter, onion, garlic, apricots

2,737 - tea ⚜ 2,500 - olive oil, seaweed, duck ⚜ 2,300 - saffron

2,000 - peaches, liquorice, marshmallow, pasta, ham, sesame seeds

1,500 - chocolate, vanilla ⚜ 1,200 - sugar ⚜ 1,000 - mangoes, oats, pickles

900 - pears, tomatoes ⚜ 700 - cinnamon ⚜ 600 - bananas, poppy seeds

500 - artichokes ⚜ 400 - pastries, appetizers, vinegar

300 - parsley ⚜ 200 - turkeys, asparagus, rhubarb ⚜ 65 - quince

1st—13th Century

1st Century - chestnuts, lobster, crab, shrimp, truffles, blueberries, raspberries, capers, kale, blood (as food), fried chicken, foie gras, French toast, omelettes, rice pudding, flan, cheesecake, pears in syrup

3rd Century - lemons ⚜ 5th - pretzels ⚜ 6th - eggplant

7th Century - spinach, kimchi ⚜ 9th - coffee, nutmeg

10th Century - flower waters, Peking duck, shark's fin soup

11th Century - baklava, corned beef, cider, lychees, seitan

12th Century - breadfruit, artichokes, gooseberries

13th Century - ravioli, lasagne, mozzarella, pancakes, waffles, couscous

14th—19th Century

14th Century - kebabs, moon cakes, guacamole, pie, apple pie, crumpets, gingerbread

15th Century - coconuts, Japanese sushi and sashimi, pineapples, marmalade, risotto, marzipan, doughnuts, hot dogs

16th Century - pecans, cashews (in India), Japanese tempura, vanilla (in Europe), fruit leather, skim milk, sweetbreads, salsa, quiche, teriyaki chicken, English trifle, potato salad

17th Century - treacle, pralines, coffee cake, modern ice cream, maple sugar, rum, French onion soup, cream puffs, bagels, pumpkin pie, lemonade, croissants, lemon meringue pie

18th Century - root beer, tapioca, French fries, ketchup, casseroles, mayonnaise, eggnog, soda water, lollipops, sangria, muffins, crackers, chowder, croquettes, cupcakes, sandwiches, apple butter, souffle, deviled eggs

19th Century - toffee, butterscotch, cocoa, Turkish delight, iodized salt, vanilla extract, modern marshmallows, potato chips, fish and chips, breakfast cereal, Tabasco sauce, Kobe beef, margarine, unsalted butter, Graham crackers, fondant, passionfruit, saltwater taffy, milkshakes, pizza, peanut butter, tea bags, cotton candy, jelly beans, candy corn, elbow macaroni, fondue, wedding cake, canapes, gumbo, ginger ale, carrot cake, bouillabaisse, cobbler, peanut brittle, pesto, baked Alaska, iced tea, fruit salad, fudge, eggs Benedict, Waldorf salad

20th Century

1901 - peanut butter and jelly ⚜ 1904 - banana splits ⚜ 1905 - NY pizza

1906 - brownies, onion rings ⚜ 1907 - aioli

1908 - Steak Diane, buttercream frosting ⚜ 1909 - shrimp cocktail

1910 - Jell-O (America's most famous dessert)

1910s - orange juice ⚜ 1912 - Oreos, maraschino cherries, fortune cookies

1912 - Chicken a la King, Thousand Island dressing

1914 - Fettuccine Alfredo ⚜ 1915 - hush puppies

1917 - marshmallow fluff ⚜ 1921 - Wonder Bread, zucchini

1919 - chocolate truffles ⚜ 1922 - Vegemite, Girl Scout cookies

1923 - popsicles ⚜ 1924 - frozen foods, pineapple upside-down cake, Caesar salad, chocolate-covered potato chips

1927 - Kool-Aid, s'mores, mayonnaise cake ⚜ 1929 - Twizzlers

1930s - Pavlova cakes, Philly cheese steak, Pigs in blankets, margaritas, banana bread, Cajun fried turkey ⚜ 1931 - souffle, refrigerator pie

1933 - chocolate covered pretzels ⚜ 1936 - no-bake cookies

1937 - Reubens, chicken Kiev, SPAM, Krispy Kreme

1938 - chicken and waffles ⚜ 1939 - seedless watermelon

1941 - Rice Krispies treats, Monte Cristo sandwiches ⚜ 1943 - nachos

1946 - chicken burgers, tuna melts, Nutella ⚜ 1947- chiffon cake

1950s - chicken parm, Irish coffee, cappuccino, smoothies, frozen pizza, diet soda, TV Dinners, ranch dressing ⚜ 1951 - bananas foster

1953 - coronation chicken ⚜ 1956 - German chocolate cake, panini

1957 - Quebec Poutine ⚜ 1958 - Instant ramen noodles, crab rangoon, lemon bars ⚜ 1960s - beef Wellington, green eggs and ham, red velvet cake

1963 - black forest cake ⚜ 1964 - Belgian waffles, Pop Tarts, Buffalo wings, ants on a log, pita bread ⚜ 1965 - Gatorade, Slurpees

1966 - chocolate fondue ⚜ 1967 - high fructose corn syrup

1970s - California rolls, pasta primavera, tiramisu ⚜ 1971 - fajitas

1975 - hicken tikka masala ⚜ 1980 - turducken

1980s - Panko, portobello mushrooms, bubble tea, chicken nuggets, Sriracha, Red Bull energy drink, everything bagels

1990s - artisan breads, Jamaican jerk ⚜ 1991 - turkey bacon, chocolate molten lava cake, earthquake cake ⚜ 1993 - broccolini

1995 - Tofurkey ⚜ 1997 - grape tomatoes

21st Century

2002 - flat iron steak, tear-free onions ⚜ 2007 - Kool-Aid pickles, cake pops

2008 - Mexican funnel cake ⚜ 2013 - cronuts, test tube burgers

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[preposterousgreen]

[at the grocery store]

Genesis: Where's Angeal?

Sephiroth: I saw him in the spice aisle—

Genesis: *groans* Overthinking vanilla extract, no doubt. Or, Gaia forbid, saffron threads. *shudders*

Genesis: Here, go check out while I talk him down. Again. *leaves*

Zack:

Zack: Did he just... hand you his credit card?

Sephiroth: I have no idea why.

Cloud: Keep it.

[copperbadge]

There’s a passage in one of Dorothy Sayers’ novels, I think Gaudy Night, where Harriet says something to the effect of, “You think, if I can just get through this minute or day or week, everything will be fine, but once you do you’re faced with another minute or day or week that’s just as complicated and difficult, and life becomes one long string of surviving.” Which sounds bleak, but she’s talking about escaping that cycle and finding real stability, like overall it’s a positive passage. I really should look it up.

Anyway, I was thinking about it because I’ve been trying variations on my ADHD medication, based on conversations with my psych. I’ve found that I can’t do the 20mg-once-a-day often because if I’m not compensating for fatigue, then it just makes me scattered; 10mg twice a day is the best dosage for me in a consistent sense. (I’m also trying saffron extract, which sounds woo-woo but does in fact seem to have some clinical significance in testing; using it to supplement the 10mg is going well, using it on top of 20mg is not...helpful.) 

It involves a lot of self-reflection because ideally the Adderall would be a driving force behind me getting stuff done, but there are still days where I take it and feel very low initiative. Frequently, I don’t even notice that I think of something to do and then do it, which has not been traditionally the way my life works, it’s just not as consistent as I’d like.  

But I’m noticing that on the days when it’s still hard to start stuff, I feel this weird, effusive sense of wellbeing when I finish things. It turns out when you accomplish a task it’s supposed to feel good. Generally, when I accomplish a task, it hasn’t felt anything -- it’s felt like Harriet, saying “Well, I just have to get through this” and then having to face something new to get through once the first task is done. But now, when I clean out my inbox or put dishes away or finish a work task...I feel good, I feel accomplished.

No real point in saying this other than to document it, but as an FYI to people who are considering getting a diagnosis, or diagnosed but not yet sure about taking medication, if you can’t start shit or don’t feel good when you finish shit, there are apparently other ways to live. I’m as shocked as anyone. 

[herkonular]

SEVENHİLLSSHOPPİNG - MEGA+

Turkish cuisine is famous for its rich flavors and unique combination of spices and ingredients. Turkish cuisine has been influenced by many cultures such as the Ottoman, Middle Eastern and Mediterranean, resulting in a wide variety of dishes and flavors. One of the most popular aspects of Turkish cuisine is its desserts, known for their sweetness and unique texture. Two of the most famous Turkish desserts are baklava and Turkish delight. Baklava is a pastry made from layers of phyllo filled with chopped hazelnuts and honey syrup; Turkish delight, on the other hand, is a sweet, chewy confection made with starch and sugar, often flavored with rose water or other natural extracts. These traditional sweets are widely available in Turkish markets and specialty stores such as Seven Hills Shopping, which offers a wide range of Turkish baklava and other desserts. Turkish cuisine is known for its desserts as well as popular beverages such as herbal teas and Turkish coffee. Herbal tea is made from a variety of natural herbs and flowers such as sage, chamomile and rosehip. This tea is often consumed for its health benefits, including its ability to calm digestion, boost the immune system, and promote relaxation. Turkish coffee is a strong, rich coffee made using a special method of boiling coffee grounds in water and serving it without filtering. Turkish coffee is often served with a small glass of water and Turkish delight, making it a popular and enjoyable social experience. If you want to try traditional Turkish desserts and drinks, there are many options available online. Sultan Bazaar and Grand Bazaar Istanbul are two popular online retailers specializing in Turkish products such as baklava, Turkish delight, herbal tea, and Turkish coffee. These retailers offer a wide range of high-quality products, including mixed baklava flavors, saffron and specialty Turkish products. Hafız Mustafa 1864 Istanbul is another popular brand that offers a wide variety of traditional Turkish desserts, including baklava, Turkish delight and chocolate. Whether you want to pamper yourself with a sweet treat or enjoy a cup of Turkish coffee or herbal tea, there are many options to experience the unique flavors and traditions of Turkish cuisine. You can access the product you want through our website.

[sometimeslapine]

[…Store-Bought Is Fine]

(the part two to the previous story! things get a bit more intimate...)

Shutting the door, locking the door, testing the door.

Satisfied, she slung the car keys back on their wall-mounted hook, and loudly announced her arrival home to nobody in particular. It was almost midnight.

She knew her roommate was out for the weekend, off to some convention thing. She knew she still had the house to herself for at least a few more days, but it never hurt to check. A little peace of mind goes a long way, especially given the whole… y'know. She was pretty sure that they were pretty sure that they knew the nonsense stuff she was into, but, still.

She looked down at the brown bag of oddities picked up about an hour earlier. She's really going to go through with this, huh. It almost felt anticlimactic, in a weird way? She'd mentally ran through this scenario about a dozen times on the drive home, almost burning the novelty of the situation out. Still, though…

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

The clock finally struck twelve, and she set to work, full of eager energy. She'd always been a bit of a night owl (partial consequence of her hobbies), so it wasn't long before most of the kitchen was an absolute mess. It's the saffron, you see. A nightmare to refine when all you've got is the kind of second-hand electric stove a a certain landlord would "so graciously" provide with the place. A few dozen croquaenen stigmas removed, drying out as best they can over the low heat of a burner.

Several of the other reagents had been prepped by the time she was starting to grind up the would-be saffron in a mortar. Most of it was ready-to-use from the get go. Wasn't a lot to extracting the lavender oil, normally, but the need for a dry environment limited her options a bit. No boiling water, no steam allowed tonight. Still, she managed.

One in the A.M. finally landed, and she was prepping the space in her bedroom. The new moon tonight gave no ambient light to work off of, but old habits and comforts kept her craft project close to an uncurtained window, regardless. Small heat-resistant tarp laid out, sigil carefully drawn with the saff powder, lavender oil spread thinly around the perimeter, incense lit to set the mood, gemstones and the elemental charm each placed at a focal point in the design, and, uh,

…Hm,

Sitting down on the edge of her bed, she held the unlabeled bottle of that ficus sap stuff in her hand, gently rocking it back and forth in contemplation, feeling the viscous weight slowly shift its center of gravity, watching it coat the inside walls. She honestly had no idea what to do with the this stuff. Not for consumption, obviously, but uh. Damn. Really regretting not asking for clarification now.

Well, she was nothing if not one to improvise.

Running back to the kitchen to grab a small cup, she dipped the air charm in by its band and spilled enough of the latexy sap in to completely coat the thing. That's basically what balloons are on a technical level, right? A latex coating encasing air? Or the representation of air, anyway. That makes sense conceptually, right?? Yeah. What's the worst that could happen.

She carefully laid the encased charm back down on the decorated tarp, its position on the sigil representative of one's body. For good measure, she gave the same treatment to several of the gemstones, carefully removing them all from the mixture with a small pair of tongs. Another moment to dry, then back into their place they go. Again, why not.

She had herself a mostly-complete alchemy circle. As a final precaution, she opened the bedroom window to that moonless sky (cautiously, only giving about 12 or so inches of an opening), aiming her tower fan to cycle air out. She didn't know how much smoke this thing was about to put off, and the last thing she needed was the fire alarm flipping this late at night.

A pause, to admire her handiwork. A photo taken, to document this setup in the off-chance it worked. Just one final reagent to go, and a comparatively big one at that.

She brought a section of the lavender oil to ignition with the still-burning incense, and carefully stepped onto the tarp, into the circle.

There was a blinding flash. The full span of the ring was now quickly ablaze with a low, luminous indigo flame. It was silent, bringing a radiance that almost felt cold. She felt a tingling sensation shoot up her spine; Either an effect of the ritual doing its work, or the nervousness of the situation as a whole. Playing with fire indoors was always a bit of a hazard, but she'd rather not risk doing this particular one outside, not with her fear of heights. Last thing she needed was an open sky without a safety harness.

That tingling eventually spread out across the rest of her body, slowly at first, and then rapidly down her limbs, with an intense heat that felt completely foreign to her. It wasn't the flames, but something more… internal? The closest association her brain could make was someone very gently running a lint roller across every square inch of her body. Weird, gentle prickling sensations, a light tug upwards as if some phantom adherence was being removed. Under any other situation, she'd have kicked back to enjoy the sensory show, but this was nothing but terse apprehension, a feeling that felt like it was going to drag on for eternity.

And then it stopped, just as quickly. The flames sputtered to an emberless ash, leaving a sweet honeyed scent throughout the now-darkened room. She collapsed on the floor, exhausted, panic finally over. Wow, did she ever feel light-headed. Probably should've had something to eat before this.

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

She laid there on her back for quite some time, hazy attention focusing in and out on the ceiling. Slowly coming-to again, she braced herself for the fire alarm to kick off screaming. The window precaution seems to have done the trick in evacuating the smoke, at least. That's good. That's… good. Wow, did she ever feel light��� ah… …light-everything? What… what the fuck.

Was that a sign it worked?

She lifted a hand upwards above her, as best as she could. It felt like her strength was sapped. She- "Holy shit." Involuntarily spoken. She could almost see right through it though, if she looked hard enough. "Holy shit. What the fuck." Propping herself up against the side of her bed, she pulled off her shirt as quickly as she could manage, pausing to lament the smudged ashen marks the sigil left on the backside. It was faint looking down, but sure enough, she saw the carpet underneath, no, directly /through/ her own chest. "Holy shit." It was literally all she could manage, rendered otherwise speechless.

She placed a hand against her belly, and gave a hesitant push. It squished down in, far more than it had any right to, before springing right back up when her pressure relented. "I- I'm a balloon. Rubber. I'm- This is- I- h-hah," before fully giving way to excited laughter. The absurdity of it all hit like a truck.

A beat passed, her taking time to fully come to terms with the changes that had taken place. Right. She did this to herself, intentionally, with purpose. There was only one thing on her mind.

She scrambled across the floor to her closet (as best she could, given the lack of any actual internals that would've helped with that,) and- "Where the /fuck/ is that air compressor." …and unburied the thing she kept hidden but never had a chance to use, covered in dust as it was.

It was by no means powerful, but it moved air around, into things, and that's all she cared about in the moment.

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

Plugged in, Powered on, Airflow tested.

With her clothes now fully removed, she did her best to prop herself up against the bedroom wall, naked and reaching (blindly fumbling) around behind her. The still-running hose went it with no resistance at all, and she immediately felt a pressure begin to build around her pelvis before dispersing upwards. Everything quickly felt tight. There was a bubbly tingle. A slight belly bump made itself known, and she stared at it in amazement as she watched the rise and fall of her shallow breaths become more of a rise and rise, and rise, and rise.

The feeling, the experience left her even weaker in that moment. She slid back down to a seated position, grabbing at her own tummy, cradling it as it rounded out to something akin to a basketball, waistline slowly gaining an inch or two every minute, puffing out onto her lap. God, this felt fucking incredible. It was greater, unlike anything she could've imagined (and that imagination certainly wasn't devoid of attempts). The pressure buildup, the restricted movement, the taboo nonsense feeling of it all. It was like getting a really good stretch in that just kept going and going. The bonus vibrations she got from the air compressor's magnet-driven motor traveling through the hose certainly didn't help her feel in any way Normal about it.

it was a few minutes of bliss before a hit of clarity successfully broke through the obsession. she needed room to grow, and the corner of her room wouldn't be viable for long. get up. she should move to the bed, if she could manage.

Right. Okay. She attempted to stand. It was a little easier this time, the pressure keeping her body a bit more taut, less prone to collapse (is this what a pooltoy feels like?) but the vibrational waves of that motor reverberating through her core still kept her weak. It was all so much to feel. She almost looked like she'd swallowed a beachball at this point, and her sides were starting to round out just as much as her front was. Hell, she couldn't even see over the rising dome of her belly anymore.

Moving to the bed, she…

…

Well, She tried to, anyway. She practically fell face-and-tummy first onto the floor with a slight rebounding bounce, coming to a stop on all fours; A clumsy combination of the ever-shifting balance point, and a rough reminder that the hose kept her on a short leash about five feet long.

Y'know what, the floor was fine. She didn't care. She really could not care about anything else. She was suddenly in the perfect position to feel everything, every sensation, straddled over her own ballooning body, feeling the high-pile carpet gently brush across the increasing surface area of her expanding frontside, while her overall weight (or whatever fraction remained of it, this hollow) squished downwards, stretching and distorting her tummy outwards to the sides as much as it did the front.

With some hesitancy, she took the weight distribution off her palms, seeing just how well she could remain in this position without the added support. The shift in balance and the new restriction in room to grow gave a subtle redirection in airflow. A pressure in her chest built up, and she gave a questioning squeeze around her front-right. A squeak vocalized at the unexpected sensitivity, but she confirmed it, face reddening as expanding titflesh slowly billowed out around her grip. It was the first noise she'd made in a while, having been enjoying the experience in silent bliss. Boobs too, huh? God, what a fucking experience.

Minutes passed with the hum of the motor still whirring away in its duty, steadily blowing the girl rounder and rounder, pressure increasing bit by bit. Completely content, she thought back on that squeak she made; Embarrassing as it was, it was the kind of noise you'd expect from a balloon, and she held on to that thought almost in pride, nuzzling her face down in the unexpected cleavage she'd gained. She was more balloon then girl at this point after all, and balloons are meant to get round and squeaky. Balloons are designed for this. It's completely normal for a blimp to want these things, she reasoned with herself. Thi-

Train of thought cut short, her whole world suddenly flipped forward. Sheer size alone had outgrown her ability to retain traction, and her legs were now kicking skyward, hose and all in full display. Only thing that stopped her ending up face-first against the carpet as she tilted forward was her airbag of a chest.

Well, things were… a little more awkward, now.

Attempts at repositioning were challenging; It was a bit of trouble moving her arms around with all the boob in the way, but there was just this… odd resistance, on top of everything else? It's… stiff. Everything felt stiff.

Ah.

She slowly, hesitantly, relaxed as much as she could, taking note of how her arms now found natural resting positions straight out to the sides. They were tough to bend elsewise, and that stiffness was slowly giving way to a new, even-more-foreign feeling of pressure, like nervous butterflies flooding every cubic inch. The feeling was mirrored along her hips, down her legs. She didn't feel at-capacity yet, but the air was already searching for new places to go.

This… wasn't anticipated. Everything gently started to puff ever-so-noticeably rounder, and she was losing mobility fast. She tried to fight it, flailing a bit, trying to shift in any direction, but it only served as a reminder of how sensitive everything was, blown out like this. The air compressor was far too out of reach in this position, and she'd completely lost the mobility needed to pull the hose out. Alright. Fuck. stay calm. take stock of the situation. Okay. Yeah.

She was still mostly center-of-the-room, halfway between the closet and the bed, safe from the danger of pushing into anything sharp, but she really had no idea just how much give she had left in her. The pressure kept increasing in step with her size, and the square footage of this bedroom wasn't ever much to write home about. She could still feel the light reverberations from the compressor's motor, vibrations increasing in intensity, a whine crying out from the little device as it tried to fight PSI it almost definitely wasn't rated for.

Well, that's a potential solution, if she could manage that long. Outlast the motor. Hope it burns itself out. Prooooobably doable. And if she couldn't…

The threat of popping loomed overhead. Jeez… Hell of a way to go. She always knew she'd be done by one of her own spells, but it being something as dumb and air-headed as attempting to live out kink nonsense surprisingly wasn't high up on her list. It just.. didn't really seem all that dignified, to be honest. Hell, just thinking about how silly she looked, all blown up like some parade float mockery of herself, sensitive squeaking with every move, so round, so shiny, so huge, so very fucking huge, and tight, and full and stretching so thin you could see right through her, only moments away from total release like any good party blimp lovingly pushed to its limit and ready to explode, and god why was she so into this, this isn't helping her case, agh, focus, focus,

She was well past the point where internal pressure beat out features. Arms and legs swelling out comically conical, the valley dividing belly and underboob beginning to taper outwards, even her face felt a little bloated. She was over minutes away from being blown full-body spherical, and all she could do was ride it out. The pressure began to peak. Ah. This is it, then.

Closing her eyes, she waited.

Slow, calm breaths, trying to avoid adding any more tension to the body.

She waited, in intense anticipation.

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

…Thirty seconds moved by without fanfare.

She… didn't feel any tighter? She was still really fucking tight, but… she didn't seem to be growing. The pump's still flowing, she can certainly feel that much, but the pressure wasn't increasing. Where's the bang.

Why was she almost disappointed…?

It was as if the compressor just couldn't move air anymore. Either that, or she sprung a leak somewhere. Airflow had normalized. She wasn't getting any bigger, but she wasn't getting any smaller, either.

She was just kinda… stuck like this. At least eight feet around, way too blown taut to do anything about the situation, almost completely unable to move (save for a slight rocking back and forth), and thanks to the motor of that hose gently buzzing away in a process she could still one-hundred-percent feel, she'd be stuck here for the foreseeable future, thoughts all but scrambled, with what amounted to a vibrator stuck between her legs. It still felt amazing, but, jeez, what a fucking scenario to be in. Her only possible release was still out at a con for the next few days, completely unaware they'd be coming home to a weather blimp for a roommate. (how on earth is she even going to explain this one.)

But, time still moved forward. She tried to let herself enjoy what she could of the situation. Occasional hushed moans broke through the silence of the night, intermingling with the white noise of the motor working diligently to ensure she'd always be topped off, like any good balloon should be.

…god. this was looking set to be a very, very long weekend.

[kitorin]

to you, my lover.

in which, shinonome akito surprises his favourite writer.

contents. shinonome akito x gn!reader, just fluff really, <- might've ruined it with an attempt of crack, unproofread and messy bc i can't think properly anymore a/n. this was supposed to be my birthday fic, i didn't finish it in time and was considering deleting but nah not today

You're tired. Really tired.

It's not a complaint, being permitted to stay out late to celebrate your birthday, now returning on a long yet peaceful and empty train ride. With the occasional rattling, it was silent, with the exception of your tired breathing and the rustle of your clothes every time you shuffled around a bit.

And your boyfriend.

Arms crossed and back leaned against his seat, his eyes remain shut, resting a bit after such a long day. Fatigue pays a visit to you as well, a yawn claws out of your throat, earning an immediate reaction from Akito.

Arm snaking behind your head, he pulls you in by the shoulder, making sure you rest comfortably against his. You snuggle against him, the scent of his cologne makes you crave more of him and his touch. The jacket that was once resting on his lap is thrown over you, and carefully he adjusts it, without moving his shoulder.

"Tired?"

You nod, resting your eyes a bit.

"If you're able to stay awake, I want to give you my gift."

"Excuse me?" As if you weren't ever exhausted in the first place you sit up, staring at him with confusion. "Akito, you bought me pretty much every book on my 'to be read'. Not to mention the promise rings too." Your glance at the silver wrapping around your finger, amber and saffron imbedded into it. "I told you so many times I didn't need anything, let alone something that would've costed so much."

Akito shrugs casually. "There's no such thing as 'too much' when it comes to you."

"And there's a thing called being financially irresponsible..."

"I'm managing my money carefully, I swear." He pledges with breathless laughter. "I assure you it wasn't expensive, I promise. I'm going to give you the world when I go professional, anyways." He fishes for something out of his bag, something small and wrapped with colourful paper.

"This feels like a book." You comment instantly, it's easy to identify when you've received so many for your birthday.

Akito shrugs again in response. "Check it, then."

You oblige to his words, unwrapping the package in a manner that didn't make a mess on the train. Your guess was correct, it is a book. Only this time with an unrecognisable title and author— it didn't have either. It was white, with nothing else.

"Who's the author?"

Another shrug, and you decide not to bother asking anymore questions. You turn to the first page.

Table of contents. This time you recognise the titles.

Because they belong to none other than you.

"You printed it out all of this?" You've re-read your writing constantly, whether it be proof-reading or trying to figure out how to elevate your prose. But when it's in your hands in the form of a book instead of the words you type up on your laptop, it feels surreal, maybe even a bit wrong. It's everything you've sent and shown him, whether it be fan fiction, attempts at poetry, extracts of screenplays, or snippets from future novels you plan on publishing.

"'Course I did. You love books, I love you and your writing." Akito says it all the time, always being the first person to read your works, sending a plethora of text messages about his thoughts on them.

You inspect the contents of the book, and as he said it's all your work. But, pale highlighter adorns the pages, black ink decorating in between lines, hearts and even more words committed to paper.

The imagery here is gorgeous here. I love these words especially ->

Although I can't and don't, I feel like I can relate to this character, the way you express their internal thoughts and actions makes me feel like I've become them

Why is he so adorable?? The dialogue is so sweetly comforting.

I think this one's my favourite. It was super cute. Short and simple but enough to make me smile all day.

You turn to another story, this one with a darker premise.

SHE DESERVES BETTER !!

This hurts so much ╥﹏╥ Internal monologue is a 11/10 (as always)

Uh oh...

PLEASE HAVE MERCY

SCREW YOU SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE A HAPPY ENDING

This one's my new favourite. Thanks for making me cry

(my tear stains) Small arrows point towards (formerly) wet patches on the page, the evidence left there shocks you.

"You actually cried? And annotated your tears?" Not once, but multiple times, on each work that connoted anything sad.

"Love, your writing, just like you, makes me feel a lot. It's not often I cry, you know." He leans in to kiss you on the cheek. "Hope my annotations did it some justice."

Each comment makes you smile irresistibly, whether it was a serious paragraph breaking down and analysing specific moments or 'someone cooked here.' being scrawled. No details were missed by him, ones that you assumed were too subtle and therefore unnecessary because no one in your comments noticed them.

"You noticed all of this? None of my friends or readers did."

"Of course I did. I've read everything over and over again and love you too much to miss any of those details."

"And every note at the end is synonymous for 'new favourite'." It's not a complaint, it's quite adorable really, watching him struggle to make up his mind. "You even compiled your favourite quotes at the end? You think my stuff is quoteworthy?"

"How could I not? Heck, I don't think an anthology is enough. I need it tattooed somewhere on me." A gasp severs his words. "I know exactly what I'm going to do on my eighteenth birthday."

"Don't. Think about it." But the prospect of him loving your prose enough to permanently etch it into your skin makes you smile. "But seriously. This is beautiful, thank you." You're not sure why it feels so different, despite Akito always texting you these sorts of comments. Perhaps it was it's physical manifestation that had evoked so much emotion.

"I remember, when I first opened up to you."

And so do you. It was certainly awkward, with a plentiful amount of tears and uncertainty. But in the end you found yourself comprehending Akito and his character more, which was worth any sort of unpleasantries.

"You ended up analysing every song I covered or wrote. And you still do. I kept those notebooks with me, and read them whenever I felt worried. It's you. You're the reason why I can listen to recordings of myself without wanting to hide. Took me a while, but without you I wouldn't've achieved it."

You peer up at him, as he gazes at the train's roof, reminiscing those memories. You had contemplated for so long, wondering whether that act would've truly done anything, whilst worrying about embarrassing yourself. Now, being able to admire the peaceful expression he wore, you can easily say you have no regrets.

"I wanted to do the same for you. I didn't like how you weren't able to see the perfection your writing held." Akito's hand reaches for yours. "I know what it's like. To hate your own art because of what other people say and growing fearful of another's opinion, or how subjectivity doesn't seem to be in your favor. It's suffocating, that's why you mean the whole world to me for freeing me of that insecurity." He bites his lip, a method he relies on to quell any strong emotion.

He's spot on. The words of others are equally as capable of hurting as they are uplifting. It's common advice to not heed any mind to others, but when it comes to writing it always felt necessary to you. No matter how well you wrote to satisfy yourself, it didn't mean anything if no one else liked it; it meant no sales, meaning no money, which only meant that writing was an invalid career for the future unless it pleased others.

Even if it weren't a professional pursuit, it doesn't feel like something one can establish its value, at least, not without the validation of others.

"You were the lens I needed to see the beauty in myself. And I want to be the one you need."

You smile, planting a kiss on his lips. "Think you already are."

Akito sighs with a grin, "Then, I can die happy now."

A playful, gentle, slap hits his shoulder. "Quit being so overdramatic."

"What? Would've been a waste if the best author in the entirety of human history didn't get to see how amazing them and their writing were."

"Now you're just hyperbolising everything."

He pokes you in the cheek. "I see you smiling."

"Because of how ridiculous you are." You thank the train for being empty tonight, otherwise you wouldn't have the freedom of quarreling. "You're an idiot. Sometimes."

"And I still think having one of your quotes tattooed onto me would be a good idea."

Akito's persistent, even when it came to things that appeared to be mere jokes. "That's so random—? No you're not getting any of my writing tattooed onto you."

"Fine, but left pec or right pec?"

"Oh my god." Though you scold him, the rest dissolves into breathless laughter, as he pulls you in for a hug.

He scatters kisses all over your face, as you savour the warmth of his body. "Happy birthday, love."

taglist (send ask to be added) : @yuzurins, @pokkomi, @chigirizzz

© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

[wumblr]

vanilla production facts

it is an orchid

the flower blooms one day per year and must be manually pollinated. pollination causes the base of the flower to swell almost immediately, from there it takes weeks to develop into a seed pod

vanilla costs about $300/lb. this being the pulp of the fruit itself, the extract we are familiar with is dilute. second only to saffron for expense. the price also tends to fluctuate greatly depending on the abundance of any given year's crops

there are three strains of cultivated vanilla. cultivation dates as far back as the totonac people in the 12th century, who live in present day veracruz, on the eastern coast of mexico. the olmecs may have also used wild vanilla in cooking thousands of years earlier

vanilla was cultivated in european botanical gardens but not really used much for 300 years after the colombian invasion of mesoamerica until finally some idiot realized the melipona bee doesn't live there, which may not have even been the correct type of bee (possibly euglossine)

five years later (1841) a 12-year-old slave named edmond albius on the island of reunion figured out how to manually pollinate the flowers, which is an extremely delicate and difficult process. some french botanist claimed to have invented this process, and people believed him for over a century

the aroma doesn't develop until after the seed pod is harvested and processed. it must be sorted, graded, blanched, then alternately sweated and dried for 15-30 days. the blanching halts fermentation, which makes one wonder, what is a fermented vanilla seed pod like?

synthetic vanillin is derived from eugenol, from clove oil, and lignin, from any number of sources. the vast majority of synthetic vanilla is made from wood creosotes which occur as a product of lignin pyrolysis (fire). its major source is, like anything, the petrochemical industry, which requires heat to fractionally distill oil into several byproducts (kerosene, naphtha, gasoline, etc). which is to say, 85% of synthetic vanilla is made from the wood smoke of the oil industry. you might be inclined to ask "doesn't this pollute" which, if you recapture the smoke to sell its particulate creosotes to synthetic vanilla producers, no, i guess not really, or "why don't they use oil to heat the oil" because it is more profitable to sell the oil and burn wood to make it, obviously

it is difficult to tell the difference between natural and synthetic vanilla in baked goods, because the baking process burns off the distinctive notes, most of which differ by growing region (tahitian vanilla is floral, indonesian vanilla is smoky, mexican vanilla is woody or spicy, bourbon vanilla from reunion has an alcoholic richness)

price markup occurs not at the point of farming, but after the point of curing. there is no set price for green vanilla beans, but there is a set price for dried vanilla beans, after they have passed through several middlemen from farmer to broker to curing. after this point, they are marked up several more times before finally making it to grocery store shelves in the form of bottled extract

in 2017 a cyclone destroyed maybe 30-80% of madagascan vanilla crops, where possibly as much as 60-80% of the global supply of vanilla is grown. in the 5 years since then, the price has not recovered, but boy howdy, have the labels gotten more fancy in specifying when it's from madagascar, haven't they?

70% of madagascar lives below the poverty line, despite the island producing the majority of the world's supply of the second most expensive spice

by volume, the number of vanilla beans imported to the united states every year is nearly two for every single member of the population (~640m, for a ~330m population)

anyway stop pouring a whole bottle of it into a cup for a joke what the fuck is wrong with you people i hope to god that ibuprofen potion post was staged with some vaguely brown liquid. also the word vanilla etymologically derives from the latin vagina meaning sheath ok bye

[misshypnofascinated]

A Signature Bake

It is time, I put the laptop aside. Not that I’m quite sure what I was doing, but I feel carefree, happy, focused, tingly, fuzzy. I was talking with somebody? Something about…

But that doesn’t matter. I ignore it, already forgotten! On with the task at hand, making this cute saffron cake recipe that I just printed out!

I put on the apron. It is a cute apron, deep red with tiny white whisks and pans. I bought it together with my first kitchenware. The rest of the set is long gone, but the apron is in mint condition. It came to mind today, so why not wear it? And it keeps the nice fabric under it clean.

Nice fabric? The T-shirt I put on this morning was nothing specia…

It doesn’t matter. I measure the ingredients. I never made this particular variant of the recipe, so I measure all the ingredients and place them in bowls. I think I look good with my apron, my cute cake tin, and a mise en place that can go straight to social media. What a domestic vision I must be right now!

I start with whisking the butter with the sugar till it becomes soft and creamy. It is monotonous, my head feels a bit soft too. But that doesn’t matter. I keep whisking till it is creamy. Creamy like… I don’t finish the thought, but I do start to feel warm. It must be the sweet vanilla extract scent getting to me.

Whisking the eggs into the mixture, my boobs get squeezed. It makes me dizzy. I must look sexy with the apron, with my breasts being pushed together. If they were here right now, they would have quite the view. The whisk goes round and round and round. I would be on display.

I would look so lovely for them. I think about showing my current look to them, showing the private cooking show I have been giving. I shake my hips extra with this thought in mind while folding in the flour.

I place the tin on a low side table, so I can give my imaginary viewer an eyeful when I pour the batter into the tin. It looks good. I shove the tin in the oven.

Time for cleaning. I place the utensils in the dishwasher, bending at the hip, as to give my viewer the nicest show. I take a cloth and clean the area. My head swims, and I can’t wait to have a taste. I wash my hands and swipe a finger through the creaminess between my legs. I put it in my mouth, and suck it clean. It tastes a perfect combination of sweet, sour, and creamy.

I wash my hands again and notice the time. I put the cake out of the oven and place it on the cooling rack. As I walk to my phone to document my masterpiece, I notice my laptop. And the conversation with the hypnotist that is open. And my headphones. They are still playing binaural tunes. And the apron. And only the apron.

With a flash, I remember everything. The conversation that interrupted my morning, disrupted my plan, my planning. The instruction to undress from my frumpy outfit, and to protect my fancy lingerie with an apron. To be on display, to imagine giving a sexy show for them. To act, to feel sexy.

I start blushing. I grab my phone and give them a look at the end result of our hard work.